


The Meet

by ellabell



Series: Eyes on the Assets [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/F, Past Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellabell/pseuds/ellabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma was recruited to the CIA when she was sixteen and barely escaped her first mission with her freedom. Twelve years later, she is sent to locate a missing asset back where it all began.  She had thought she had moved on from her past, but old secrets have a habit of surfacing.  </p><p>This is the first part in a three part series.</p><p>NOTE: Half of the fic is told in flashbacks to when Emma was a teenager, so there is a significant amount of past-Emma/Neal. Don't read if it's not your thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhregal/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Eyes on the Assets Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687745) by [rhregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhregal/pseuds/rhregal). 



> A/N1: Half of this story is told through flashbacks, and there's a fair bit of Neal in it. It's going to end up as Swan Queen, but it takes a while to get there. Don't read if that's not your thing.
> 
> A/N2: This is the first in a three part series. I originally planned for it to be one story, but as it got larger and larger I determined that splitting it up was the best plan. The remainder will be posted as soon as it is edited.
> 
> A/N3: Literally the only things I know about the CIA come from Alias, Covert Affairs (which I borrow heavily from for this fic), and spy novels. Not even like, the good spy novels. So take everything with a grain of salt. 
> 
> A/N4: I've done a lot of research for the MacGuffin that keeps the plot going, but I haven't been to many of the exact places described in the fic and have been relying on a workmate for details. Sorry if I cast the main country in an unfair light, or got details wrong. I tried really hard, but I'm open to constructive criticism. (You can message me at tumblr at ellabellbee)
> 
> A/N5: Thank you the lunatics and the dumpsterettes for cheering me on, to SQBB for all their hard work organizing this, and to rhregal, who made some AMAZING art for this story, which Im SUPER excited about. Seriously, go check it out. It's wonderful. (rhregal has knowledge of the full three part series, and the art was produced accordingly.)

 

The lobby was just as busy as it had always been, but Emma stopped just at the base of the official seal inlaid to the marble floor and took a breath. It had been a long time since she had been at headquarters, and even longer since she had been there during the regular business hours when she would be surrounded by people moving quickly with briefcases and dressed in suits. The beeping of security passes and clicking of heels echoed in the hall, and the last murmurs of people on cell phones filled the air before they were forced to turn them off and leave them outside the secure area.

She had almost forgotten the measures at the gate – how the guards checked her ID and looked under her aging car for bombs – but it was comforting as well. Routine. Safety. And best of all, in these halls, she could actually be _herself_.

Not that she really knew what that meant anymore – she had spent so long in deep cover that some of her thoughts and dreams were actually defaulting to Russian, but she supposed that was part of the job. And now she was home – or at least, as close to home as she has ever gotten.

And yet, even here, she was out of place: having spent so long hiding in Europe's high fashion, she had ditched the suits and fancy blouses for a chance at wearing jeans and an open plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows, and she had been in the field so long that she didn't recognize any of the people striding past her.

She faltered. Maybe she should have just worn the damn suit. Maybe her first day back should have been met with a bit more decorum. And maybe she should move from her spot at the base of the seal because the guards were starting to look at her warily.

With a sigh Emma started to move toward the security desk (unsure if her old card would still work and not wanting to create a scene if it didn't) when she heard a familiar cry and felt strong arms circle around her waist and shoulders from behind. "You're back!" the voice squealed (far too loudly for right beside her ear) and Emma laughed.

"You should know not to grab anyone in this building without warning by now," Emma said to her tall friend, turning around to hug her properly. "It's good to see you, Ruby."

"Being in your ear isn't enough?"

"Never," Emma replied, and truly meant it. Ruby was her assigned tech-op but they were also so much more than that, with years of history and friendship behind them. She was also one of the only people that actually _knew_ her; or at least, she was the person that had known Emma the longest, as the only person that Emma knew from _before_ she avoided at all costs.

She pushed those thoughts aside – the time that she classified in her head as _before_ was never something the liked to linger on.

Ruby waited patiently as Emma got her security card figured out and they entered the secured area together. "So, I go help Granny at home for two weeks and you're back stateside. Before I left everything was fine. What gives?"

Emma groaned. For all the good that she has done as a field agent, this was her most embarrassing blunder – and as small as it was, it caused some serious repercussions. "You remember Elsa?"

"The hot blonde from Norway you sometimes hook up with when you travel? You met her through your NOC, right?"

Emma nodded. Her non-official cover, or working cover, was with a coalition of energy companies that lobbied government on the companies' behalf. Elsa worked with one of the Norwegian branches of a large oil company, and they had met at a conference in Copenhagen a year earlier and had hit it off immediately.

It had been so easy to talk and chat with the pale blonde. It felt so natural to invite her out for drinks away from the conference center when the flow of conversation came so easily about Elsa's own tragic upbringing and how easy it was connect with her about her own (heavily sanitised) history, about being orphans, about taking care of younger siblings (foster in Emma's case), about being a woman in what was still seen as a man's profession and navigating their way through the oil and gas sector, especially in a country that wasn't their own...

And Elsa was so easy to please with barely-there touches and the slightest hint of affection. When Elsa invited her back up to her room she wanted so badly to say yes, but it was with an almost broken voice that she instead answered, "I work in _Russia_. Haven't you been paying attention to their current policies on people like us?" But Elsa finally convinced her with a few more drinks, a few close dances, and a very heartfelt promise that she was good at keeping secrets.

Turned out, not good enough.

Pulled back to the present by Ruby's expectant look, she sighed. "It's a long story, one that I'll need a few drinks to get through, and I'm supposed to be in debrief in five minutes. Allen's tonight?"

Ruby gave her a quick nod. "I'm holding you to that," she said with a finger point and a smile before turning off to her department, and leaving Emma feeling alone in the hallway, and yet surrounded by people passing her, all on their way to somewhere like they belonged. Still, she squared her shoulders and made her way through the building to what she knew was going to feel more like an interrogation room than a boardroom or office. At least this time she was allowed in the building, though she still feel a strange nostalgia for the open skies of Blue Bonnet, which stopped her in her tracks.

She never thought she would have a positive feeling for the CIA long term debriefing venue, considering that was from _before,_ closed off in her mind with the months preceding it as the time that she did. not. think about. The slight bit of positive remembrance shocked her – and while she was usually so good at controlling her thoughts and emotions, she felt her breaths growing shorter, harder, and she leaned against the nearest wall. This day, this _week_ was already throwing her off and she could _not_ deal with going down that rabbit hole. This was not the time to be thinking about that period, not when she was likely going into a polygraph, not when that period in her life had been sealed in her file and only available to the highest clearance level. Even then, with the last DCS recently retired, she didn't think that anyone in the building had even seen that part of her file.

She leaned her head against the wall and took in deep breaths until the gasping stopped, until the colour had returned to her cheeks and she finally felt calm. This wasn't the debrief and recovery center. This was Langley. She was 28 – not 18 – and she just got back from Russia. She took one last deep breath and composed herself. If there was one thing that she knew how to do, it was compartmentalize.

She entered into the room to see a polygraph already set up, and another young face that she didn't recognise ready to ask her questions. She was sure there were another two or three people behind the two-way mirror, but it didn't matter. She was a spy. This is what she did. And despite her failings that made her leave Russia, she had worked there successfully on and off for five years. "Alright," she said to the unfamiliar man, knowing that she at least now _looked_ confident. "Let's begin."

 

* * *

 

Ruby was already waiting for her at Allen's Tavern, a long time favourite of The Agency, and had a beer waiting. "I bet it tastes like piss after that last conference in Germany."

Emma laughed but tapped her glass to Ruby's all the same. The beer was subpar, but it tasted like home. She took a long look around the tavern patio and grimaced. "I don't recognize anyone here."

"Well, you know the history: hiring freeze in the 90s and so almost fifty percent of the Agency has less than five years experience -- and most weren't lucky enough to get recruited at 17 and 19 like us."

Emma nodded, conceding the point. She and Ruby had been part of the second round of a project that trained agents before going to university and then inserted into specific colleges and programs to keep an eye on many international students. The idea was to get agents recruited early and then trained in areas that the agency knew they had shortcomings, as well as have a way to hold on to the candidates they wanted before private industry got to them. The agents would get a free education providing they followed the many rules laid out for them and worked at the agency for a minimum of five years after graduation. Ruby had caught the eye of The Agency when she won a country-wide science fair by inventing a better fire suppression system for kitchens and had been invited for training while she was still in high school and Emma...

Emma stopped that train of thought for the third time that day. What was happening to her? Why couldn't she leave that particular place that she had closed off for so long alone? What happened to being good at compartmentalizing? And yet, she _knew_ why as the memory of her walking past the white wall with tiny engraved stars swam in her mind, and before she could forcibly push it away, her phone rang.

She had been momentarily grateful for the distraction, until she realized it was Elsa's photo that came up on the screen and she swiped ignore, feeling a bit of guilt at not talking to the other woman.

She had almost forgotten that Ruby was there until she gently cleared her throat, and let her fingers gently trace the tops of Emma's. "Now, what really happened?"

Emma shrugged. "I was starting to feel burnt out and she invited me to Paris. I had a ton of vacation days stacked up and I figured it was the perfect time to use them. What I didn't know that she was just arriving a few days early of a work retreat. Company team building, or something," Emma continued with a wave of her hand. "When they all showed up, Elsa and I were still together – not hiding our relationship – and one of her colleagues works closely with the Russian minister who is aggressively homophobic..."

"Ah."

"Yeah. So I kind of lost all my bargaining power for my NOC _and_ I basically had to leave Russia just as we need agents with government access there the most." Emma shook her head, still mad at herself.

"You were on vacation," Ruby answered emphatically. "That wasn't your fault; no way."

Emma gave her a weak smile and shrug. She was beating herself up about it pretty badly. She had been _so careful_ when in Russia. She had never let her guard down while on official business in Europe with her NOC, only ever indulging when she was far away from any of her coworkers, from anyone in government – but she should have known that Elsa's colleagues would be coming. Elsa should have _told_ her, and there was a part of her that still blamed Elsa for encouraging the semi-public sex in the first place... even though Emma knew she should have known that it could endanger her place working with the Russian government at almost any time.

The thing that probably hurt the most was that she actually _liked_ Elsa, despite knowing that it never could have developed into anything further. _Don't date foreigners_ was practically the motto of the Agency, and there was never _any_ chance of a "close and continuing" status going through. Emma even thought a couple of times about trying to turn her into an asset, but they already had someone in her oil company and Emma didn't ever want to put her in danger.

She was dangerous enough as it was, with her wide blue eyes that sparkled with mischief and an almost unstoppable need to gain Emma's approval that she attributed to not being fully accepted by her parents before they died, and it turned out that Elsa really wasn't the best at keeping secrets anyway but –

"So," Emma said, interrupting her own runaway thoughts and wanting to change the subject. "You're pretty much the only one I talk to from around here. Catch me up?"

Ruby seemed to see the deflection and need for a subject change for what it was and was soon had Emma laughing with stories from bungled missions and the naivety of some of the new recruits. "... and he totally forgets that his line is still open and starts trying to hit on this older woman with the _worst_ pick up lines I've ever heard, and he denied it the next day until I sent him the transcriptions."

"You transcribed them?" Emma asked with wide eyes and a goofy smile coming over her face.

Ruby shrugged with a devilish grin. "And did a literal translation. He didn't realize that he couldn't just use English pick up lines in Chinese."

Emma laughed again and another two beers were deposited in front of them. She was getting that familiar buzz in her head, and for the first time since she was discovered in Paris, she relaxed. "This was perfect, Rubes," she said softly. "I needed this."

"You were in poly all day?"

"And all _week_ probably," Emma answered before taking a large sip. "Not that I don't like being back, but..."

Ruby nodded. "But you need the field," she responded, even though Emma knew that she didn't quite get it. As much as Ruby loved to travel and the thrill of the Agency, she also had a _home_ here in the DC area. Sure, it had only been her and Granny for most of her life, but she had grown up in Granny's diner and had a community and roots. "I'll try not be offended by that," she added playfully, and instead of answering Emma flipped her off. "Besides," Ruby added, taking a moment to relish that she knew something that Emma didn't. "That's not what I heard."

"Wait, what?"

Ruby's wide lips smiled coyly. "Only that I was asked to get something ready for you, in case you needed it. And I was asked how your Spanish was."

Emma crinkled her nose. "My Spanish? It's a little rusty, but I figured that even if I was no good in Russia, I still have contacts in the region that would keep me in Eastern Europe."

"I'm just telling you what they told me, and think that deserves a little quid pro quo, don't you think?" Emma stayed silent, knowing that Ruby would get to the point soon – she was never one for patience, and Emma was proven right when she leaned in and asked, "so exactly _how_ public was this sex in Paris?" and Emma threw a balled up napkin at her face in answer.

A deeper voice interrupted them from the door. "Now girls, am I going to have to split the two of you up?" The man asked pleasantly, and Emma jumped from the chair with a grin.

"David!" Emma exclaimed laughing before punching him in the shoulder. "Haven't you learned by now that trying to parent us is _always_ the wrong way to get us to do something?" David had been one of their instructors at the farm, and though he was only about ten years older than Emma, had become a mentor to the both of them almost immediately. He had started out in the field, but when he got married and his wife wanted a more stable home, he transferred into training.

Ruby laughed and got in on the teasing. "Actually, trying to get us to follow any of the rules at the farm was always a bit hard for you. Honestly, who thought putting college aged kids in training was a good idea?"

David smiled back at the both of them but it looked thin, and Emma stepped into him and clutched his shoulder. "Hey, I heard about you and Kathryn," she said, with her voice low. "Sorry it's taken me so long, but if you need anything, I'm here, okay?"

David nodded solemnly before turning it back around. "Funny you should say that," David responded, warming back up, and settling into the spare chair at their table as they both sat down. "I'm ready to get back into the field, and you're supposed to be coming with me."

"I just came in. I'm supposed to be in debriefing all week – I'm not cleared for field duty again yet."

"Well, that's about to change. Mary Margaret wants to see you first thing in the morning. Both of you, actually," he added, turning to Ruby.

Emma was puzzled. Mary Margaret was around the same age as David, and part of The Agency's so-called 'royal family,' even though they denied that nepotism and preferential treatment existed; yet, she had climbed the ladder faster than anyone else despite her lack of field experience. But last Emma knew, she had been leading a task force focused on gathering information about an international arms dealer, and Emma wasn't under her purview.

"She was just promoted to being in charge of 'special projects', whatever that means," Ruby helpfully supplied, even though David frowned at her tone.

"It means that she has funding to do what she wants," David responded, a hint of discipline in his voice. "And tomorrow morning, she wants the two of you."

Emma and Ruby exchanged a look, but then David started talking again, this time a little softer. "I know it's still early but I have to get home... I just wanted to make sure I caught you so you weren't blindsided tomorrow morning." His gaze turned to Emma again, but this time he looked at her fondly. "It's really nice to see you, Emma," he muttered, and then got up and walked away.

Emma turned to Ruby, curious, but Ruby just held up her hands in surrender. "I don't know; you're the spook. You figure it out." But then she shrugged, and the two of them finished up their beers and called it a night, the rest of the gossip being left for another day.

 

* * *

 

Emma returned back to Langley far earlier than she should have given her night with Ruby, but jetlag and the timezone differences were playing games with her, and if she was already going to be awake anyway then she might as well beat traffic.

The halls were emptier than she usually ever saw them in the daylight and even though she always wanted to avoid that one particular place at headquarters, her feet brought her there anyway. She supposed that she would be going there sooner or later this visit regardless, so why shouldn't she take the opportunity when there was no one else around?

Whenever she passed the white wall with the engraved stars, she always gave it the respect that it deserved, but her eyes were always drawn to one star in particular. She hadn't been there when it had been carved seven years ago when it had been decided to finally add it to the wall, but she knew which one it was. Everyone knew whose star it was, both when it was first added and then when it had been officially declassified two years later. She hadn't gone to that ceremony either. But then again, no one was really supposed to know that she knew him.

It really was early and the hallways were quiet, and she didn't feel the same apprehension of stepping to the wall that she normally felt when people were around. It wasn't even the last star that had been added – there had been twelve added after his – but _his_ was the one that she went to.

She couldn't bear to touch the engraving, even as she reached toward it and traced the outside. They had never even found the body, but with her accounts of what happened, of _everything_ that had happened then, nobody had any hope. They had gone down there together, and only she had come back, even if she had never been the same. She felt a flash of anger, and then of sadness, and then many more complex feelings that she wasn't ready for this early in the morning.

She didn't want to go through all the events that led her to this point, but standing at his star, it was easy to remember the first time she had met Neal. She was a freshman and had been officially transferred to a charter school in the DC area. The school year had barely begun and she was already itching to leave, to run. She had just run from Ingrid, she had already run from Lily, and she would have run from her new group home too, if it wasn't for him.

She was _good_ at stealing now – something beneficial that had come from the broken wreck she had become after Lily, something she had honed and practiced in her last group home after she had been considered weak by others, or bullied because she somehow become Ingrid's favourite, for all the good that did her.

She didn't take much when she managed to pickpocket – a couple of bucks so she could eat lunch, a baggie she hid for later, and once a cell phone from another student who was being really obnoxious with it, if only so that she could play snake during her study period. It was practice, it was a game, and stealing from the other students was a game that she was really good at. With Neal, she fell into him in the lunch line from behind, stealing his pack of cigarettes from the side-pocket in his bag.

She didn't even really smoke – while other students her age were experimenting with rebellion, she had no one to rebel against. Instead, she would hide out behind the convenience store across the street and light a cigarette for show -- giving her a reason to hide there -- and watch as the tiny embers glowed and burnt their way up the paper in her hand.

And somewhere along the way, she had even gotten a strange sort of respect from others that hid there – the rich kids wanting to defy their parents, the popular kids wanting to show off, the older students who had already gotten hooked. She really had just wanted to get away from the prying eyes of the teachers and the immature come-ons from the boys in the hall.

Then, there was Neal. Neal was one of the rich kids that had somehow convinced their parents that they didn't need to go to private school and had made the classrooms their own; yet, he was also the only one to ever notice that when she bumped into people in the hallway she took more than just a bruised shoulder or a glare. One day he just appeared behind the store where she watched one of his cigarettes burn down and immediately located her, his eyes angry and determined, and she swore in whichever language came up first when he stomped over to her.

But then he heard her swear and his brow furrowed, and instead of getting angry he simply put out his hand. When she reluctantly returned the pack she stole (which she did anyway, simply because she didn't want to start something bigger), instead of pulling out a cigarette of his own he fished around for a joint that had been hidden inside and sank down onto the pallet beside her. "You speak Russian?" he asked as he lit the joint and took a long drag, and Emma shrugged in response. "You speak anything else?"

She murmured back to him that she was conversational in four or five others (still ready to run if needed) and he lay back on the pallet, blowing smoke up into the air.

"I wish I had your talent," he finally said, just as Emma contemplated whether to steal another from the pack that Neal hadn't put away, despite the fact that she had barely taken a puff from the last one.

She had stared back at him in surprise. "Talent? All I got is a history of foster parents that wouldn't speak English and ones now that don't stock groceries."

He turned his head slowly to study her and after a moment, he sat back up and offered her the joint. She shook her head at him and he shrugged before inhaling again. "Yeah, talent. You're good. Can you do anything more than pickpocket?"

This time it was Emma that studied him. He was only two years ahead of her, but exhibited the growth spurt that none of the boys from her grade had yet gone through, giving him a bit of height on her and she wondered if she had to run away or fight back, how much of a challenge he would be.

But then he smiled at her – a stupid, glassy-eyed smile – and she felt the weariness melt away. Instead she felt intrigue and curiosity, and something else settle a bit lower. "Anything like what?" she finally asked, and his smile broadened.

"You're about to find out."

And find out she did – but not just what he thought he was supposed to be teaching her, like picking locks, blending into a crowd, or getting out of a choke hold, but also how to roll a perfect joint and how it felt when someone actually paid attention _._ He told her that she mattered, and he showed her that he cared, and he promised her a future, and she bought the dream called Tallahassee.

But their versions of Tallahassee were different and he started her down the path the led her here, to standing in front of his star, and still not knowing if she loved him or hated him for what he started.

The building was starting to wake and the low murmur of people getting to work was heard, and Emma knew she couldn't stand that any longer. She didn't want to be seen, for people to know that she had a connection to anyone on that wall. Besides, she still had time for coffee before her early meeting.


	2. Chapter 2

Just as Emma suspected, the second she reported to the polygraph department she was instead ferreted to a shiny new office on the seventh floor. Emma and Mary Margaret came from vastly different backgrounds and experiences, but they got along even though Mary Margaret's entitlement and meteoric rise through the ranks irked Emma's own sense of motivation. But Emma couldn't deny that she did good work, at least when she was trying to prove her worth on her own merits instead of her name.

But even then, Emma couldn't hold back her scowl at the ornate woodwork and polished brass, far nicer than anything she would ever be afforded. (A small voice wondered if this would have been Neal's office if things had ended differently for him, but Emma pushed that thought away. It wasn't doing her any good to continue to reminisce.)

David was already waiting for her and Ruby was on her heels, letting out her own low whistle as her heavy boots clomped into the room. "Nice digs."

Mary Margaret ignored the comment and gestured from her seat at the head of her boardroom sized table. "Please, have a seat," she said to them both, gesturing to the two seats at her left, but in an act of her own subtle defiance she took the seat beside David and Ruby sat directly across from her, leaving an empty space beside Mary Margaret.

Emma held back her smirk at the momentary look of annoyance that crossed Mary Margaret's face, clearly upset that the meeting had already gotten off on the wrong foot and her role as leader already in question. "So," Emma started pleasantly, because even though she was happy to take these little digs at those for whom the world came easily, she didn't want to make the world harder on herself – she was actually in a moderately good place now (her recent departure from Russia notwithstanding) and was happy to leave the harder part of her life behind.

Or, perhaps not.

"Emma, I know that you just got back from a long assignment, but there's a situation developing that I think you and your NOC are perfectly suited for."

Emma and Ruby exchanged a look, both already interested.

"There are two problems that have come to my attention. The first is that an asset that has been very valuable to us in the past has gone quiet. I don't have an identity on this asset – only a code name and the way that they typically establish contact. The second is that in the same geographic area, we may have a leak from inside. I don't currently know if the two are related, but we need someone that get in quickly, establish their role, and investigate from inside. I believe you're the perfect person for the job."

Mary Margaret clasped her hands on the table and waited for a response, but Emma immediately knew something was amiss. She was being far too vague in her descriptions and giving far too much praise for there not to be something that she was holding back. "Mary Margaret," Emma said slowly, drawing out her name, but she wasn't allowed to finish.

"There a few options that we're considering as what happened. The first is that the two events are completely unconnected. The second is that the asset was turned, and is now working for the other government, and so the asset is also the leak. The problem with this option is that we don't actually have any idea who the asset is, or what access they actually have to American secrets."

Emma was barely listening to what Mary Margaret was saying, and instead could feel her spine growing stiffer and stiffer. She chanced a glance at David, but he practically had hearts coming out of his eyes while watching Mary Margaret speak, and Emma didn't think she could quite meet Ruby's gaze at the moment, not with how easily Ruby could read her.

It didn't matter. Mary Margaret kept speaking regardless of the tension coming from her. "The third is the worst hypothesis, and the one I don't particularly want to entertain, but it's possible that whoever is leaking secrets also discovered we had an asset and... disposed of them. But I don't want to think that way yet, because it's extremely possible that all this is just a misunderstanding and the last few check ins were missed simply because this person doesn't want to be an asset anymore. I mean, that would be sad because it was very nice to have someone that knew so much from this geographic area, but I suppose we can't _force_ someone to give secrets from their country –"

Emma was finally able to interrupt, the deliberate vagueness finally snapping something inside her. " _Where_ is this geographic area? _Which country?"_

There was a reason why some people were made for headquarters and others were made for the field, and as Mary Margaret fidgeted in her seat while Emma sat patiently for a response, the difference had never been more obvious. "Before you get angry, I _know_ you have the tag on your file but I looked into it and there's nothing outstanding in-country and your ID is clean, so this _really_ shouldn't be a problem –"

"Mary. Margaret." Emma snarled.

"I mean, I wasn't able to get the full file because it's been heavily redacted but being in this position now I _do_ have clearance to see some things and was able to pull some strings to find out a little bit more, and you haven't even been to Venezuela since you were eighteen, so whatever trouble you got into there it was before you joined the agency anyway and with your NOC you should have absolutely no trouble getting in and access –"

"Mary. Margaret." Emma repeated in a dangerously low voice, even though she didn't seem to hear the warning tone or was deliberately ignoring it.

"Though really, what would have to go on for an eighteen year old to get a note on her CIA file to not return? I looked through all the other missions that were happening around that time and there's only one that was even close to where you were –"

Emma made a low growling sound in the back of her throat but Mary Margaret paid it no head.

"Because that's when Neal Gold went missing," she continued, getting more excited with the idea that she might be onto something. "He would have only been a couple years older than you, did you somehow get involved in whatever he was trying to do down there?"

Emma placed her hands palm down on the table and spread her fingers, trying to gain some control, but every bit of fear and loneliness and helplessness from that time washed over her, and she clung back to the one thing that had given her strength during that time, the kindness of that stranger, her beautiful dark and mysterious eyes that had tried to stay cold but always softened around her, the woman who was barely older than she had been but whose confidence and compassion saved her life...

But Mary Margaret couldn't stop talking, not even for a minute, and the moment of peace that Emma had captured got snatched away with her voice. "I looked through your file; you even went to the same high school as Neal Gold so it makes sense –"

And Emma couldn't take any more. "Neal _Cassidy_ ," she corrected and finally looked up, feeling the fire in her own eyes. She just didn't expect Ruby's eyes to show so much concern, and she suddenly felt tired and weak. "I –" she pressed the heels of her hands into her temples. "I gotta get out of here," she finally muttered, and fled the room.

 

* * *

 

Emma stormed out of the building with David right on her heels, but she didn't stop until she reached her car, and she kicked a tire forcefully. All she wanted to do right now was run, to cut all ties like she had done time and time again – or at least in this case, she had tried, and someone wanted to bring it all up again.

David caught up to her but she didn't turn to face him and instead glared at her car. Why the hell did she keep the damn thing when she wanted to keep a chasm between who she was now and everything that came before? But that wasn't necessarily true, because she _didn't_ want to forget. It's why she kept the car and wore the keychain around her neck and –

She pressed her fists against her eyes and tried not to be the girl that she had been when he left the first time, when she had gotten the car. Neal had disappeared almost as soon as he graduated, after the two of them had been almost inseparable for two years. The rest of his friends spent the summer partying and taking trips to Chesapeake Bay, and sometimes Emma was invited along, but she had always been viewed as an extension of Neal, and not someone to be noticed herself. She had liked it that way.

But she was going to be heading into her junior year and her only constant from the past two was gone, gone without a word, gone to what she had been told by the father that he hated and she had only met once before was a summer internship, but she could see it was only a partial truth.

When she went home the night he left she found a note under her pillow that said, _You'll understand one day, I promise_ and _Keep practicing._ There was pink slip stapled to the back of the note that belonged to the first car she successfully stole, and it wasn't an apology, but it was pretty damn close.

And now she was here.

"Emma –" David tried again, but she whipped around on him.

"How did she know?" she demanded. "She doesn't have the clearance, and even if she did the rest of the people in that room sure as hell didn't. That wasn't hers to tell, even if it was just guesswork and pulled strings. She had no right – no right to --" Her voice started to crack, and she stopped talking for fear of how her body might respond if she continued.

David hesitated as if he was trying to find the words, but then he just shrugged. "She thought was doing the right thing, that somehow you would have the knowledge or resources to complete the mission. I don't think she thought you would have reacted like this, so she must not know whatever it is you're trying to keep."

Emma took a breath and her mind cleared just enough for the words to make their way through. Mary Margaret didn't know everything, and it calmed her down. She _couldn't_ know everything, which meant that her secrets were still safe. Nothing that Mary Margaret did was malicious in intent. She probably thought she was being helpful.

She took a few deep, calming breaths, once again turning to the image that she always did of the woman that made her question everything she had just decided about the worth of humanity, that not only gave her a reason to live but also an opportunity to...

She sighed. "When would we leave?"

He hesitated. "We have a jet for tomorrow morning."

Of course they barely gave her any time to relax in the comforts of home before being shipped off again. She still had most of her bags packed and a lot of her business clothing would be able to be used in South America, so there wasn't that much prep work to do if she had to be ready to go by the morning...

Finally, she nodded. "I can't go back in there, not right now. Go over the mission specs and brief me on the plane. I gotta pack, or... or something."

She could tell that David wanted to ask probably a hundred questions, but to her astonishment, he refrained. "I'll see you at nine." He started to walk away before seeming to remember something. "Oh and Emma? Bring a dress."

 

* * *

 

Emma spent the evening with a bottle of Jack and sitting on the couch in her safe house, knowing that Ruby was likely stalking her actual apartment and not being able to handle the questions. The questions from Mary Margaret brought up too many old feelings up and she just wanted to push them all back down into the nice little compartments that she typically hid them in.

But the bottle of Jack made it hard for her, and she ended up passing out before she was packed.

She was woken by the ringing phone far too few hours later, with Ruby's face coming up on the screen.

"'lo?"

"You damn well better be somewhere good, because you haven't been home all night and your clothes aren't going to pack themselves."

Emma grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her hands over her face. "Where are you?"

"On your couch, wondering where you are and what could possibly be more important than seeing me again before you leave."

Emma took a quick survey of the room. There wasn't much mess to clean up, at least not anything that couldn't wait until she returned... whenever it was that she was supposed to come back. "It's like, six AM." She could practically hear Ruby shrug. "Alright, I'm on my way. I'll be there in twenty."

She splashed some water on her face and immediately felt a bit better, happy that whatever threats of a hangover lingered managed to be staved off, and made her way back home.

Ruby was waiting for her in her kitchen, the coffee already going and the smell of eggs and bacon greeting her. "Where the hell did all this come from?"

"I stole the raw materials from Granny's kitchen last night. I couldn't trust you to actually have gone shopping since you got back," Ruby laughed as she handed Emma a mug, and she inhaled deeply.

It took a few minutes for the caffeine to be absorbed, and she picked at the plate that Ruby put in front of her as she cleaned up the kitchen, but after she ate she felt infinitely better. "Thanks, Rubes," she finally muttered when Ruby bounced over to the table and loudly kissed her cheek.

"That's what friends are for: being there when you need it, helping you pack, driving you to the airport, making you food—" Emma groaned appreciatively, "—and telling each other all our secrets."

"Is that what this is about?" She felt defeated, worn down already even though the mission hadn't even started yet.

"I'm worried about you, Emma. I've never seen you act like that, and I'm your tech-op. I'm with you for what I thought was supposed to be your life's most stressful experiences, and that includes **_finals_**. But yesterday?" Ruby took a large breath and let it out slowly. "I need to know that you're okay to do this mission."

Emma mirrored Ruby's calming breath, and even though she was casting her eyes anywhere but at her long term friend, and when she reached a hand across the table she actually felt herself almost smile when Ruby clasped it. "You're my best friend, Ruby," she whispered, and her voice almost cracked. "I can do it with you beside me."

Ruby squeezed her hand and then they both pulled away, neither much for the theatrics. "Good. Then I'm going to talk your ear off when you get to South America, and hope that my Spanish has even come close to keeping up with yours."

"I don't even know what the mission is," Emma realized with a startled laugh.

Ruby shrugged. "You can get most of that on the plane, which I pushed back to a ten AM departure for you. You're welcome, by the way. The real fun is that you're going to this large gala event and the theme this year is masquerade." Emma could feel her eyes widen as Ruby's smile grew. "And I brought my wardrobe over. Let's get you a dress."

 

* * *

 

By the time she got on the plane, Ruby had pumped her up enough that she was starting to feel like herself again – or least had regained some of her confidence. No lingering effects from her time in front of the wall the previous day remained, and instead she was just nervous.

It was easier now to push away some of the more irrational thoughts, the ones that woke her up at night of guards in uniform grabbing at her shoulders, of being taken away by car without being able to explain, of being alone and scared and without anyone coming for her...

But that wasn't the case this time. She had David by her side and Ruby in her ear, and even Mary Margaret providing resources from Langley. There was a support structure. She was _supposed_ to be there.

But the faint linger of anxiety remained. She was nervous that someone would recognize her, or that there would be a bounty out on her, or that this whole thing was somehow a trap from someone that wanted to know what exactly happened to Neal... even if she wasn't sure of the answers herself, other than he wasn't here now.

Yet, even then, she could rationalize most of her concerns away. There weren't many that she had been close to when she was free, and most of them weren't in any position to make trouble for her. None that knew her after would be believed, and the only person that she actually would have been worried about went missing the same time as Neal.

She couldn't tell how long had been staring at the window of the stationary plane for when David finally came on board, but as soon as he arrived the pilot started takeoff procedures. Thankfully, David waited until the plane was safely in the air before finding the seat across from Emma and settling in.

And still, he was silent, content for the moment to stare out the window and watch the clouds go by, until Emma couldn't handle the silence anymore. "So, there's uh –" she cleared her throat which felt raw and unused. "—a ball?"

She could feel his quiet excitement even without looking at him. "A masquerade. There are parties and networking events every couple of months for visiting officials and people they want to move business to their country, and there's one each year in particular that they use to both showcase the rich Venezuelan traditions while also paying homage to another influential culture. This year, it's a masquerade. Ruby organized masks for us that will be waiting at our hotel."

Emma nodded, still not making eye contact, but listening none-the-less.

"The asset that we're trying to locate used to make contact at these events, always using the theme to signal the agent that was assigned to the case. But for the last two parties, after the first signal had been made, there hadn't been any further point of contact. The information had always been given as dead drops and no contact between the two had ever actually been made. We literally have no idea who this person is, or how they get their information, though the best guess is that they actually work somewhere in the government system."

"Is that agent still down there?" Emma asked, finally studying David, and he seemed to relax with relief.

"No. Once Mary Margaret started to suspect there was a leak, there's been a lot of movement with the agents in the region, trying to see if anything shakes loose. He'd been down here for more than ten years though, and had put in to be relocated back to the US anyway."

Emma felt a piece of her concern relax, one that she hadn't even identified yet. The agents that had been down there, the one that might have recognized her – they were being moved. Relocated. Not one remained to recognize her and start asking questions.

"So, what's our mission?"

David sat forward in his seat, clearly excited to get back to the planning aspect of his career. "You use your NOC to get into the Gala with me as your guest. We mingle, and keep our eyes out for any signal that someone wants to talk to us. We respond with the identical signal on the other side of the room and wait for instructions, which apparently came in a different way each time."

Emma thought through the information given. "Do you think the asset has just lost trust in the agent that they had previously been working with?"

David shrugged. "I think Mary Margaret is hoping that a new face might pique the asset's interest, or assuage whatever doubt they had that stopped them from working with us."

Emma's gaze wandered back to the window and she was quiet as she went through the information in her head. "And then after the gala, we just come back home?" And even as she asked the question, her voice sounded too small, too hopeful.

She heard David exhale. "No. Then we start looking into all the Americans down there to see if we have a leak, without any of them knowing."

Emma closed her eyes and leaned her head against the side of the plane. This mission was going to last a lot longer than she anticipated, or ever wanted.

 

* * *

 

With her eyes closed, David apparently got the hint that she didn't want to speak any more right then, and she heard him move back into a seat on the other side of the plane. She was grateful for the quiet after how little sleep she had, and the effects of Ruby's coffee were already waning.

She felt the fatigue in her bones but it still wasn't enough to drift off, so instead she let her mind wander – though she should have known that was a mistake, because her thoughts took her right back to where she had left off.

It had been almost a year since she had seen Neal. She was nearing the end of her junior year when he appeared out of the blue – strolling back behind the convenience store and sitting down next to her on the broken wooden pallets and lighting a cigarette as if no time had passed.

Emma said nothing, and he had quietly laughed as if she had just alluded to an inside joke. It turned her head but she still said nothing, instead just looking and examining. He had filled out since she had seen him last – his shoulders were wider and there was actual muscle on his frame, tightly wound and defined, and all the attraction and history and feelings that she had tried to will away in the past year made their appearance once more.

"You look good," he finally said, breaking the silence.

"Joined the track team. Coach likes me." She shrugged. "Makes sure I eat."

It was still so easy to read him. He wanted her to say that he looked good, too. He wanted her to acknowledge that he was the one that suggested the track team, that he was right, but she wasn't about to give him any of the credit. Instead she stayed silent and took a long drag.

"You actually smoke those things now?"

She shrugged again.

"What's your coach think of that?"

She stared at him.

"Got good grades?"

She sighed. "What do you want, Neal?"

While most of his other questions had been flippant, the next one came out as genuinely curious. "How's your Spanish?"

"I – what? It's good, I guess. My written sucks." She had been determined not to talk to him, really, but the non sequitur caught her off guard.

He snorted. "And it's still probably better than mine. What are your plans for the summer?"

She was beginning to get annoyed. "I dunno, get another job? Save up so when I age out of the system I got a security deposit on a place to live? It's not like I got a lot of choice here."

She huffed and put out the cigarette ready to leave him behind, but the softness of his voice held back. "Yeah you do, Em. Yeah you do."

But she really never had a choice back then, not any more than she did now. The system was designed to keep people like her in her place, and she had thought she had finally gained some agency, finally had some control over her own life, but as the lush green landscape came into view for the second time in her life, she wondered if any of them ever had any control in their lives at all.

 

* * *

 

They had changed to a commercial plane in Houston, and while still flying first class, the journey provided them much less comfort and privacy than before; yet, Emma was grateful to have some more time to herself without David asking questions. Instead, Emma spent her time enjoying the wifi on the plane to brush up on what the media had been publishing about the South American oil fields, and not just what the official CIA dockets reported.

They landed in Caracas and Emma could feel her heart beat in her throat, but she schooled her features the best she could and presented her work visa and passport to the border agents with an almost bored demeanor. When he stamped the visa and handed the passport back to her with barely a second look, she felt like her lungs could expand again and the oxygen making its way to her brain almost made her feel giddy.

She knew that there was still a long way to go and that there would be many more trials (most of them her own), but getting past the first hurdle almost made her feel like everything would be okay.

They settled into their two room suite without difficulty and swept for bugs with precision, working together like they had been for years instead of one being teacher and the other trainee almost ten years ago. As soon as that was complete, Emma reached for her phone and started making calls to every contact in her NOC that she knew was stationed down there, setting up plans to meet and already situating herself in their business world.

 _This_ she was good at – arranging meetings and getting businessmen and unsuspecting government officials to do her bidding. In this case it was making sure that people she knew would be at the gala so she wouldn't look out of place, and scheduling appointments to get her access to the government buildings once they started looking for their leak.

It was half her own instincts that led her to saying the right things and charming even the gruffest of individuals despite her naturally prickly exterior, and half all the training she got from the agency. Though, perhaps even that wasn't quite right, because there _was_ a certain amount of emulating that she did, trying to capture her first teacher's natural aloofness and magnetism that always worked so well for him.

Because even though he always said she had great instincts, the charm and any sort of projected self-worth certainly had been a struggle.

That day behind the pallets he had told that she had choice, but what he really meant was he had made her choice for her, and she was too naive to notice it at the time. At the end of the school day he was sitting in the driver's seat of her bug, waiting for her at the side exit that he somehow knew she'd be leaving from.

"You stole my car," she said, still getting into the passenger seat beside him.

"It's like, half mine."

"The pink slip you gave me says differently."

The smile he gave her was charming and brilliant and everything that had ever made her fall for him. "So you liked it," he smirked, and all the bitterness that she was trying to hold onto for him leaving without saying goodbye melted away.

"Yeah," she murmured. It was the one thing that she owned, the one thing that actually belonged to _her._ It was safety and security and an escape and was tied to so many firsts and it felt like home. At the thought she glanced briefly at the backseat and hoped that Neal didn't see the involuntary twitch, but the smile at his eyes showed he knew exactly what she was thinking about, possibly even exactly which memory she was replaying in her mind.

And she didn't want to hold onto the bitterness, onto the knowledge that he had left her just like everyone else in her life had. Instead, in that moment, she wanted to hold onto the fact that _he came back_. "So, uh, where are we going, anyway?" she asked, hoping for maybe a secluded area, somewhere that she could deal with the feelings that she was getting from just being this close to him again –

But instead, he winced. "We, uh, need to talk to my dad. He wants to meet you."

"Me?" Her hair was greasy, her jeans had holes in them, and she smelled like cigarettes. "Right now?"

"Em, I'm sorry, I don't have a lot of time –"

"You're leaving again." She sank into her seat. "How could I – god I'm so stupid! You're just –"

"I promise you Emma," he said quietly, fiercely, trying to get her to hold his eye as much as he could while still driving. "This is going to change your life."

(and change her life it did, though while she was standing there in her hotel room remembering, she still didn't know if he had vastly improved it or had sent her down this path of ruin and deception, and the one thing in her life that she might have felt good about had been taken away – but was that actually true too? Or was that still the bravest thing she'd ever done?)


	3. Chapter 3

They arrived toward the end of the business day and they called it an early night, Emma still recovering from jet lag and her night at her safe house and David allowing her whatever space and time she needed for the night, though Emma was sure that that would change in the morning.

When she awoke it wasn't with much of a better mood – her dreams were crowded with image of yellow cars, small rooms, faulty bugs, and again of the guards in uniform, but this time pulling her away from David and Ruby and even Mary Margaret, not a single one of them understanding her cries though she tried them in every language she knew.

When she caught her breath she was brought right back to the question that fell asleep pondering: had she been brave when she came here so long ago? Or was she just stupid and naive, doomed to make the same bad choices again and again?

(But there was the one choice that she _had_ to believe had been a smart one, _had_ to believe had been brave and respectable and _good._ Though really, at the time, what other choice did she have?)

When she finally felt like she could get out of bed, she passed David in the common room with a grunt and headed straight for the shower. It was later than she had anticipated, and she would have to already start getting ready for the gala that night. David had at least seemed to have brought in some food for them, and as Emma washed away the fine layer of sweat that had accumulated over her body while she slept, she at least felt thankful that she was with someone here that she trusted, even if she was still skeptical about the one calling the shots.

When she got out of the shower and had dressed back in some comfortable clothes, she found David still in the common room with Ruby now on speaker phone.

"When I dug into the timeline a little more," Ruby was saying, "it seems like our two mysteries really are connected, though my guess is that the asset just got a little spooked, perhaps knowing that they may be in jeopardy if any word of their dealings got out. They may even know who the leak is, so if you can leverage that, we'll be golden."

"If we can even make contact, that is," Emma chimed in, and though Ruby didn't acknowledge her, she knew that her friend was happy to hear her voice on the call.

"And if not, you get to dress up all pretty and drink wine. Really not the worst assignment." Emma had to agree. For the amount of time that she had spent at week long conferences without a break just to do a brush past or exchange of briefcases? This was absolutely not her worst job. "And no one will get mad if you don't make contact either. From what I can tell, this is a last ditch effort and sending Emma there was actually a great move."

Emma could feel her brow furrow as she tried to work out what Ruby meant, but David finally asked the question. "Why Emma?"

But Ruby didn't seem to have noticed what she had said until asked about it, and she stumbled over her explanation. "Because of her cover and... the language skills and –" Ruby sighed and stayed silent for a moment as Emma glared at the phone. "Look. If the asset truly knows as much as we think they do, then whatever it is that Emma's keeping from us, it means that the asset might know that too. Putting Emma into that position shows that she has something to lose as well. I don't have to tell you that doing that incites trust because of promise of mutual destruction."

Emma tore her eyes away from the phone and David looked at her sympathetically, but despite the rage she was feeling inside, she knew Ruby was right.

But Emma had limits to her rationality, especially since even she didn't know the final outcomes to her two biggest secrets. With a long exhale she closed her eyes and tried to center her breathing, but even that wasn't settling the mixture of emotions swirling inside of her. Finally she made an excuse about having to go get ready, leaving the call behind her. She could catch up on any other details later.

 

* * *

 

Emma had heard a lot from Neal about his dad over the half year they were just friends and then the year they were more. He was selfish. He was a coward. He was more focused on his work and his image than ever taking care of his family. And Neal wanted almost nothing to do with him. Sure, he accepted his money when available, but the second he had been able to change his last name as a teenager to match his mom's he did, wanting nothing more to do with the man.

And that, apparently, had changed.

Still, Mr. Gold gave her only about two seconds of attention in the large foyer to his even larger house before declaring, "No. Absolutely not."

"I swear, Dad, she's the real deal," Neal responded, and Emma was sure that he slipped that _dad_ in there just to try and please him.

"And you want me to risk the program on your hunch?" He examined Emma from head to toe once more, his lip curling with disgust more every moment and then he shook his head when he seemed to realize something. "Ah, on your _girlfriend_ , the one you didn't want to leave."

This was news to Emma, but she didn't show her surprise and instead stood her ground. "I don't need this shit –" she started at the same time that Neal pleaded, "Dad, I –"

He pounded his cane on the ground to silence them and Emma became certain that he didn't need it for walking, but he probably just kept it with him to keep everyone around him on edge. "Other room," he commanded through clenched teeth. "Now."

Neal gave her a pleading look to stay and she nodded but the second they were out of view she followed closely behind, desperate to find out what Neal wanted her for.

"Look," she heard Neal say when they finally thought she was out of hearing distance. "She speaks like, five languages and she's quick. She runs and has the fastest hands I've ever seen. She can pick locks and pockets and can blend into a crowd like it's second nature. She's _exactly_ the person you're looking for to get the program off the ground."

It was silent for a moment and she could practically hear Gold studying his son. "You've been teaching her." It was quiet again and she could only assume that Neal nodded. "She is uncouth and unkempt –"

"—and a foster kid that won't have anyone ask where she's going or why she hasn't checked in, or where she got the money to go. Have her be the test subject, and then you'll have something to show that it works, and I'll go with her. I'll be there the whole time." He paused as if he was gauging Gold's reaction, and before he could speak Neal continued with what Emma knew was his final pitch. "And she's _fearless_. She's probably right outside this door eavesdropping. Right Em?"

Her options were to race back to the foyer and pretend that she wasn't listening or to stride in and help Neal prove his point so she chose the latter, stuffing her hands into her pockets and shrugging when Gold clenched his teeth. "Hey."

But even with his clenched jaw he looked at her with a new type of respect. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen." He closed his eyes briefly, and Emma had the answer ready, even if she knew it probably wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Hey, he left before he turned eighteen. We're cool," she continued, and if anything, it made Gold grind his teeth and Emma couldn't help but smirk.

"And we will _never_ speak of this again." He grimaced, but also seemed to be resigned to the fact that Emma and his son were in front of him, and that they probably weren't going to leave until he gave her whatever fair chance Neal seemed to think she deserved. "Well then, Miss Swan. Let's get started. I have some questions to ask you."

What followed was a two hour long interrogation on what Neal had taught her, what other skills she had, and practically her entire history since birth. She kept giving questioning looks to Neal, but he kept nodding, kept encouraging her to answer all his dad's questions. Finally Gold leaned back, and considered her silently, and she couldn't handle it anymore. "What is this even all about? I don't even know what you do!"

"What I do, dearie," he spat, "is keep America safe. And to do that right now, I need someone enrolled in an international high school program in Venezuela in the fall. My son seems to think that you're the one to accompany him for this job."

Emma's mind stuttered on several of the things he just said, but the one that stuck out the most was, "You want to send me to South America? I don't even have a passport."

Neal answered, "We'll get all that ready for you, Em. We just need to know that you're in and then we can get the ball rolling. We'll start your training as soon as your exams are done and leave shortly after so you can acclimatize before things actually start."

Emma was stunned and could barely process what had just happened, but she found herself nodding with a small and shocked smile growing over her face.

That night she went to the library and looked Mr. Gold up on the internet. He was the Director of Clandestine Services for the CIA, one of only three positions at the Agency that were public. Somewhere inside her she felt the first seed of pride, that someone wanted her to do something that was good and even special, even though something about it didn't feel quite right.

It wasn't until she got back that she found out how wrong the whole situation actually was.

 

* * *

 

The dark green dress fell lightly to her knees and she adjusted the mask again over the majority of her face. Normally Emma would scoff at the requirement for a costume at a state event, but this time she found comfort in the anonymity. It's not that she expected to see anyone she knew, anyone that would recognize her from _before_ , but the classmates she had for that short time at sixteen were exactly the type of people that would have gone on to government or big business... even if the ones she had hung out with were more likely the ones that would have taken a turn towards the "easy" way to make money... which never worked out for anyone. But she had been there for such a short time and with a different name; she couldn't expect anyone to make the connection, could she?

But even with all her reassurances to herself, she still gripped David's arm tightly and adjusted the mask again when they went through security and entered the room.

She struggled to stay in the present. With the familiar scents of the Venezuelan cuisine and recognizable beat pattern to the music in the background, she almost had no hope of ever being able to enter a room like this and not wanting to run, to hide, to wrap her arms around herself and kick out at anyone that came to close.

Instead, she tightened her grip on David's arm, and tried to pretend this was just another training mission, that the last time she had been at an event at a governmental building in this country her life hadn't changed irrevocably.

"You remember what we're looking for?" David asked, putting one of his hands over hers in what appeared to be an attempt to stop her nails from digging in quite so far.

Emma smiled politely and squeezed his arm again for good measure. "Something out of place that still has to do with the theme of the event. Yes, I remember. You remember that I still have my NOC to work?"

David nodded and placed a similar smile on his face. "Then let's go schmooze."

Emma almost immediately recognized some of her oil contacts that she knew from conferences, and visiting with them led them through the first half of the event. Emma led the conversations and left David to play the part of the somewhat bored date, allowing him to keep a better eye on everything that was going on around them in the hall.

She broke away to "visit the ladies' room" but really to do a reconnaissance of the hall when she heard a familiar voice and tried to change directions, but he was too quick for her. "Ah, love. Don't be like that or I might not save a dance for you."

"I can only hope, Killian."

He scoffed and took a step closer to her side, pretending to peer over the crowd but she knew he was examining her just as much as she was him. She had worked with Killian Jones a few times over the years; he playing the part of an ex-shipping mogul turned investor who had struck big and now travelled to foreign nations looking for opportunities to exploit, but actually worked for MI-5. Emma always came off those missions feeling like she needed a long bath and new identity, just to keep him away.

There had been once where their cover had forced them into a few too many close situations, too many shared safe houses and close calls, where she had even debated ending her dry spell with men... but the second she started to get close he started waxing poetic about what he would give up for her and how she would change his life. She didn't wish that sort of pressure on anyone. Even worse, when she rebuffed his advances he became reckless and a bit too daring in their pursuit of safe waters, almost getting them caught only a couple of miles from safety. She vowed never to get close to him again and avoid missions with him whenever she could if she could help it.

Of course, it was her own recklessness that got her into trouble in Russia, though of an entirely different kind. No lives were lost there, just her flow of information.

"I heard about the nasty business in France," he mused quietly, somehow catching onto her train of thought. He took another step closer to her side so their arms brushed and Emma crossed hers in front instead. "Pity. Would have worked out better if you had accepted _my_ offer to sail around the Mediterranean on your break instead."

Emma rolled her eyes at him, but her jaw clenched anyway. If _Killian_ had heard about her losing her access in Russia, word had travelled further than she would have liked about her embarrassment. "You're just upset that _both_ of us rejected you in Amsterdam," she bit back, not willing to let him poke that particular bruise. "Besides, you're not exactly my type."

"Ah, but rumour is that I was once."

She finally turned towards him and truly examined him. She hadn't really dated a man since Neal, but to be fair, she hadn't really been in a relationship with _anyone_ since then either, and most of her relations were more of a date-and-ditch or friends-with-benefits thing anyway. Dating and the spy-world didn't exactly go hand-in-hand, and that didn't even begin to touch on her own issues. What had he heard that would give him the impression that she had once been into men?

But Neal's ghost had been following her around ever since she had gotten back to DC and the air suddenly started to feel thick and heavy and she suddenly had to gulp for a clean breath. Her secrets weren't actually secret as she had always been led to believe. If someone like Killian knew these things about her, how could she expect to stay safe while here? How could she ever have thought it was a good idea to return? How could she have let the still unanswered questions be brushed aside? How she could have forgotten that coming back might ruin everything that had been set up before?

She almost started to hyperventilate but Killian took her arm and brought her out of the room and into a deserted hallway. "Breathe, love," he reminded her until she felt the rhythm return. "Is your pet not in your ear, then?"

She knew he was trying to distract her from what had set her off in the first place, and his question worked. "No, just a night out working for my other job," she answered, dismayed that she even admitted to him how much of a comfort having her tech-op in her ear could be. And yet, she wished for Ruby's sarcastic voice to be the one to talk her town instead of this man that she had grown to loathe.

He gave her a look of skepticism at her brush off, which she supposed she earned. But David was unknown to MI-5 and she would prefer to keep it that way. But also, with David there, they had no reason for Ruby to be monitoring the entire event, especially one that was so heavily guarded. She would catch up with Ruby in the morning, and hopefully not out David's association to the CIA in the mean time.

"Ah, looks like the distraction worked," he said, inching again just a little too close, almost ready to set her off again, and she stared at him with a critical eye.

"Thanks," she finally admitted as though it was a confession onto itself. "What did you mean, anyway? About..." She trailed off and wondered if she actually wanted to know how much Killian knew, but the question was already out.

He fixed his gaze somewhere over her head, not quite meeting her eyes when he reluctantly answered, "Just some chatter about an old association that I assumed to be you, but it appears I was mistaken."

"Yeah," she agreed reluctantly, letting the quiet swallow whatever else was implied in her answer, but she still felt the need to affix a glare in his direction and reaffirm her disapproval. "You must be."

"And never to be spoken of again, I assure you," he said, lifting his arms in a mock surrender and Emma finally caught sight of his new prosthetic, taking the opportunity to change the topic and lead him back inside the hall.  They were just starting the announcements of the formal part of the evening, and she used them to get away from him as quickly as she could.

There was a brief speech by the minister in the government that hosted these events to promote Venezuelan businesses and foreign investment, and then a brief performance by some members of the cultural society. While the other attendees were either actually excited to see the dancers or politely feigning interest, Emma and David took the opportunity to step back and watch the rest of the crowd.

And still, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No strategically left champagne glasses or feathers that would look like they simply fell from a mask but actually formed a map. Nothing that suggested that their asset — one that had been apparently trained to leave clues by one of their own — had any interest in continuing the relationship, or that they were even there.

Emma thought back to Ruby's earlier words, and was dismayed to realize that she had put so much stock in Ruby's assessment that she had begun to believe that the asset _had_ to make an appearance, that there was no way that they _could_ fail. And yet...

"Looks like this evening was a bust," Emma said quietly and finally took a larger sip of champagne.

David took a careful sip of his own with a pointed look to Emma's quickly draining glass, but she shrugged. They hadn't been drinking up to this point because she had wanted to stay focused, but as the night went on their hopes of finding the asset diminished. "This is when the party really starts?"

Emma nodded. After the formal part of the evening, the invitation called for more drinking and music, and if it was anything like the parties she attended in Europe, the guests would be starting to cut loose any moment now.

It was if by just thinking it, the lights were lowered and the music was turned up and the mood of the party changed drastically. Emma had been waiting for this moment the whole night, where the lighting became dim and people would be paying less attention to the newcomer, where she could stop answering her colleague's questions with detail. She had been fairly comfortable talking to the oil contacts she knew and getting introduced to more, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that she would be exposed, that someone would recognize her, that someone would remember her from ten years ago and put her through the same thing again.

Well, not the same thing. They couldn't —

David cut through her inner turmoil with a hand on her shoulder and a questioning looking, but she shook her head. This wasn't the time for her to go down that rabbit hole. "Let's dance," she said instead.

David led her around the dance floor until one of her NOC coworkers cut in, and then another, and then another, each trying to teach her steps they wouldn't have believed that she'd once practiced daily. She feigned gracelessness at the patterns — she didn't want anyone to know that she had ever done them before, had perfected them with one of their own, had —

And then she was in the arms of a woman, only slightly shorter than she was and holding her close, guiding her more smoothly than any of her male counterparts had.  " _I think we both know you can dance better than that,_ " the other woman said quietly to her in Spanish, sounding almost hostile with her low voice and direct tone.

 _"Only with someone talented to lead,"_ Emma responded back lightly, hoping she hadn't indirectly offended someone she may need later on.  She tried to pull back to see if she could identify her dance partner, but instead she was held just as close as before and their masks braced against each other, stopping her head movement.

Emma allowed herself to be led to a more crowded part of the dance floor, where the other dancers were loud and rowdy and Emma had to strain to hear what was said next.  "What do you hope to find here?" The woman asked, switching to English.

Emma adjusted her hand on her dance partner's bare back, and if her skin wasn't so smooth and scent so intoxicating, she might have paid more attention to the implications of her question. "I'm here to help relations between the global oil companies and the local government," Emma recited, still distracted, splaying her hand over the muscles rippling under them.

She could feel the other woman shake her head more than see it and one of the feathers from the other woman's mask tickled at her temple.  The woman managed to get herself impossibly closer, lifting her chin so that her next words were said directly into Emma's ear, and then everything else fell away.  

**_"You shouldn't have come back."_ **

A cold shiver ran through Emma, because everything she was afraid of for this evening came true. Here was someone who recognized her, knew she had been there before, was warning her off now, and —

And she had absolutely no idea who this woman was. Emma struggled to lean back, to catch on to any identifying feature, but the woman's message had been perfectly timed because there was an announcement that there was going to be a special fireworks display, and would everyone please come to the balcony to watch?

In her distraction, the other woman was again perfectly timed because as Emma tried to turn to get leverage she let go and set her into a spin, directly in Killian's arms, who was only too happy to hold on. When Emma regained her balance a moment later, the woman was gone.

"Did you see where that woman went?" she demanded of Killian, but he was too busy trying to peer down her dress, and she pushed him away.

David was across the room and she made a beeline for him, pulling him away from the waitress that he was chatting up with force. "Tell me you saw her," she demanded as soon as they weren't in hearing distance of anyone else. "Tell me you know who she is."

"Who?"

"The — The woman I was just dancing with. Shorter than me? I think her dress was black? Dark hair and a mask?"

"That describes most of the women here." He looked bewildered at her questions and then interested, and took a step closer to her. "Did you find the person we're looking for?"

But the truth was, Emma didn't know. Could Ruby have been so correct in her guess that their asset might know of Emma's past here, even when the knowledge was supposed to be so highly contained in DC?

The fireworks were coming to end and in the grand finale, the colours from the sky bled into the room and illuminated a table they hadn't given notice to before. And there, just out of reach from where they were standing, a single green feather stood in a glass that sat on top of a napkin where two words were scrawled:

**_Go Home._ **

 

* * *

 

The rest of the night passed in a blur. David maintained that they had to stay to the end in case their asset wasn't Emma's mystery woman or in case she came back, but Emma knew that it was pointless. The woman would have disappeared the second she had delivered her message, and she was using a similar protocol to the one their asset was supposed to. Even if the woman wasn't their asset, she wouldn't have risked using it if the real asset was there.

But David said they had to stay, and so they did.

By the time they returned to the hotel and swept their room for bugs, Emma had worked herself into a state. "Do we have a way of getting a guest lists?" she blurted out when she couldn't hold it in any more. "Can we figure out who was there?"

David sighed. "You knew more people at the party than I did. Can they get a list?"

Emma almost yelled at him in frustration, but groaned and collapsed into a chair instead. David was technically her superior, but he had such little field experience that it felt like she was training him. "They might know all the other people from the oil company and lobbyist side, but probably not everyone from the government, especially if they were just a staffer or part of the cultural office."

"But they've been working here for a while. So maybe they would recognize the woman?"

"I didn't even see her! How could I possibly describe someone that I didn't see?"

David kneeled down in front of her and took her hands in his own. "Take a deep breath, Emma. You've trained for this. Now close your eyes." She glared at him, but then took a shuddering breath and did what he asked, and after a minute of steady breathing he asked, "How tall was she?"

She could feel her brow furrowing. "Shorter than me, but not by much. I think she was wearing higher heels, though, based on how she moved when we danced."

"Good. What was her body type?"

Another breath. "Small. Tiny, even. But fit and muscled. Strong."

She could practically feel his encouragement. "What language did she speak?"

"We started in Spanish, and then we switched. Her Spanish was from the region, and her English was American for sure, without even a hint of an accent. And her voice was... very low and quiet, and gravelly. I think she was maybe trying to disguise her voice."

"Age?"

Emma shook her head. "Her skin was soft and smooth but she didn't seem young. She was too confident for that, but not foolish. Self assured. Cocky even, like she was a challenge. She could dance. And..."

"... and?"

"She smelt like... apples?" she wondered, and could feel her initial reaction to her scent bleeding into her words.

David snorted and she opened her eyes. "A woman that's challenge, of course. Leave it to you to already have a crush on the person threatening you," and Emma didn't even try to deny it. She always tended to romanticise the things and people she couldn't have, whether it be what a real family looked like or —

Or the woman that showed her kindness from back then that she had held onto for so long, the woman who had been nice to her, who had showed her compassion and empathy and —

And Emma knew that maybe she was just projecting, inserting a memory distorted from how often she brought it up, but in her mind she substituted the hidden face of the woman in her arms with the woman's from back then, her dark eyes warm and earnest, the line of a scar against her lips...

But it couldn't be. Emma had given up hope of ever thanking her long ago, of ever telling her how she probably saved her life, had given her something to focus on the days that were the hardest —

Her thoughts were again interrupted by David, who had focused back on the case. They had taken the napkin and the feather from the event and they were now sitting in plastic bags on the table beside her, and she pondered the words on the napkin again. "Is it a threat? Or is it a warning?"

David shrugged. "I don't know, but either way, we have to be careful. What do you want to do?"

Emma closed her eyes again and slung an arm over her face. She was scared. She was scared of everything that happened to her then happening to her again. But she was smarter now. Trained. And this time she actually had the resources of the agency behind her and not just one inexperienced college kid whose father denied every meeting her.

 

* * *

 

They sent the encrypted images from the pinhole camera in one of David's buttons to Ruby for decoding, but they knew that in the darkness it was a long shot that anything would show up. Still, there was that one last sliver of hope that their mission wasn't a complete failure.

It was crazy to Emma how much the spy game had changed in twelve years — or really, how it had changed to her, because when she very first started she just wasn't given any support. As soon as her exams were done in her junior year she was handed a passport with the name "Emma White" and an expanded back story of an orphan with a large inheritance that wanted to study abroad.

How nice it actually would have been to have been taken in by a distant uncle that left her to her own devices until she gained access to her trust fund. At least here she got to pretend for a little while.

So she travelled alone with a new suitcase and wardrobe to Caracas where an apartment and her enrollment in a specific fancy school were already set up, and instructions to befriend the illegitimate son (who was officially billed as the child of a distant cousin) of the country's new president. She had the summer to acclimatize and start contact, and then she would be in his class when school started in September.

When she started, she was so afraid. She didn't have a pinhole camera or Ruby in her ear. She didn't have the full resources of the CIA behind her. She had Neal, and that was it.

And she had thought it was going to be enough.

She remembered the first check-in that she and Neal had, strangers bumping into each other in her apartment building's shared laundry room and she was almost shaking with nervousness at blowing their cover, of messing up their protocols, of doing something wrong that would take away all the faith that had been granted to her —

But instead Neal leaned casually up against the table she was standing at, and flirted shamelessly with her until she was smiling, and any bystander would have believed that she was just another foreign student finding comfort in a bit of home.

Two weeks later she went to Neal's apartment "to watch tv" but really to check in, and she was ecstatic. "I made contact!" she exclaimed as soon as he gave her the okay to break cover, and his smile felt exactly like success.

"I knew you would," he grinned goofily back at her. "How about we celebrate with some beers while you tell me all about it."

They sat on his couch and she told him about how she figured that Juan Diego (called Juan D by his friends) was exactly the type of boy who turned his head when she walked past him on the way to the beach, exactly the type to approach when she smiled at him, and exactly the type to keep chasing her when she ignored him.

"I mentioned that I was busy tomorrow but was hoping to come back later in the week. I bet he'll be there every day waiting for me."

"You're good at this, Em. I told you you would be."

He was _proud_ of her. It wasn't something she experienced often, and a familiar warmth fluttered in her chest. The problem was when that warmth spread lower, and she knew he recognized the change in her immediately.

They were each a few beers in and she felt slightly light-headed and it seemed like he was moving towards her without any will of his own. The air was charged and it would be so easy to fall back into him, to let herself be with someone that actually cared for her, to be with the one person that had ever looked out for her, but could she do that now?

He managed to move right beside her and his hand threaded through her hair and she leaned into his touch. She wanted so much to be held and touched and cherished, but just as his lips were closing in on hers she pushed him away. "Neal, you're my handler right now. We shouldn't."

He pulled away and removed his hand, but his eyes still held hers when he nodded. "You've always been so much better at this than I am." His tone still sounded like pride, but now longing had tainted it.

"I should concentrate on becoming friends with Juan Diego."

He nodded, and the pride turned into something else. "You'll have captured his heart in no time."

And capture his heart she did, even if friendship was all she was aiming for. It started with a bit of flirting and then casually pushing him away, but three weeks after they first made contact he asked her out for the third time, and she couldn't deny him again for risk of losing him completely. And every time that she related her progress to Neal, he became more and more sullen, and whatever pride he once showed her took a backseat to whatever passive-aggressive comments he wanted to direct at her that day.

But Juan Diego was flirty and charming, and there was even something about him that reminded him of Neal, even if Neal was self deprecating and goofy while Juan D was boastful and arrogant. Maybe it was just that they both paid her attention, but she found herself liking the boy even if he acted egotistical, conceited, and superior when he was with his friends. But Emma had personality issues of her own, so who was she to judge?

"You weren't supposed to seduce him," Neal said angrily when she told him her plan, and there was a part of her that felt equal parts upset that he was disappointed in her and elated that was jealous, even after she pushed him away.

"It's the only way to keep him interested right now. During the date I'll let him work it out that we're attending the same school in the fall, and when he tells me I'll let him down easy. I'll say that I want a friend, not a boyfriend, especially because he's the kind of guy that loses interest after he gets the girl. I haven't lost my chance, I swear."

Neal looked skeptical and that hurt more than any of his biting words from before. He was the one supposed to believe in her, but his lack of faith in her plan made her fume.

"Whatever," she huffed. "I can't back out now, and I have a date to get ready for," she bit out before exiting the room and slamming the door behind her.

Juan D brought her to a nice restaurant and he ordered them each a strong El Ritual, and when the events unfolded like she projected and she turned him down his eyes only flashed angrily for a second before he relaxed. "I guess I don't really want another ex at school I have to hide from," he joked, still taking a moment to kiss her hand, but she flicked his cheek when she pulled it away. He put on a pout but then laughed, and Emma knew she was saved.

He still had his driver bring her home and when he opened up her door to help her out, she could see Neal on his balcony with a beer bottle and a cigarette, and the way he glared at the car made her fume at him once more. Everything had gone exactly the way she had planned it, so why didn't he trust her?

Juan D smiled at her again and she let herself to be pulled into a hug. "Are you sure I can't try to convince you with a goodbye kiss?" he cockily whispered into her ear, and she was just mad enough at Neal to allow him.

His kiss was aggressive and forceful but she kissed him back until she heard a balcony door slam shut, and she pushed Juan D away. "You'll forget about me the second you have me," she replied, and he smirked.

"But what an experience it will be until then."

" _Goodnight,_ Juan D," she said pointedly before stepping back and turning away, and when she heard his laughter again she knew they were okay. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he agreed, and then left.

Emma went to her room and knew it would be only minutes before Neal would be there, no longer being her supporter but instead her greatest critique, and she didn't have to wait long until he was letting himself in.

"What the hell, Emma?" he forced out before slamming the door behind him, not even waiting to see that she was alone, that she had done her regular bug sweep before talking. " _That_ is how you think you'll stay on his good side?"

"It's not like I have any other options. I have zero training and you're not giving me any support, so what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Become his friend! Earn his trust! And then you'll have access!"

"Access to _what,_ Neal? Because I'm in the dark and the one person that's supposed to believe in me is either angry at me or ignoring me instead!" She lept to her feet, her hands clenching and unclenching beside her, and it was everything she had not to start swinging.

"You're supposed to be a spy, not whoring yourself out to your mark," He ground out, and they were both breathing heavily, their faces red and still not talking about what either of them wanted to.

"A _whore?_ " she bit out in disbelief, the level of her voice steadily rising. "I needed access, and you encouraged me! And the only reason I kissed him was because I knew it would piss you off!"

"Because I want to be the one kissing you!" he finally yelled back at her and everything was silent and charged and she didn't know which one of them moved first, but it was a flurry of lips and crashing of teeth and hands, hands everywhere she had missed and wanted whenever she thought of him, of being _wanted._ It felt just like it had before, when she was starved for love and comfort and anyone to call her own, anyone who noticed her at all, and it wasn't until morning that she thought that maybe sleeping with someone who was supposed to be her superior wasn't such a great idea after all.

But it didn't mean that she stopped.

And now, eleven years later, they had both paid the price even though she still wasn't sure which of them suffered more pain.

 

* * *

 

 

While Ruby decrypted the photos and tried to match the covered faces to people, Emma scheduled meetings with her NOC counterparts stationed there, all of whom were happy to have another person in-country helping out their overworked office. At least, if Emma was going to be staying, which she wasn't yet sure if she was.

David received a call from Mary Margaret (and Emma was finally not too distracted to remind herself to press David about _that_ later) that told them to continue mission for the time being, even though the original meeting did not go as planned. "She thinks something might turn up," David told her after one of their conversations, though he couldn't tell her more than that. "I'm not even sure if _she_ knows more than that, almost like..."

He trailed off then like he didn't want to finish the thought, but Emma did it anyway. "...like she's getting orders from someone else."

David nodded his head but looked unperturbed, while a cold weight settled in the base of Emma's stomach. Mary Margaret was being played, and once again Emma was going to be caught in the crosshairs of a plot she still didn't understand. There was only person that could maneuver all these pieces into place with any of them knowing, only one person with the knowledge and the desire to bring Emma back to where it all began.

But what could he possibly get at the end of this? Was this a punishment for the things she couldn't control? For being so foolish back then? Or, now that he was retired, was he just finally in the position to try to find out what actually happened?

Gold had been pulling the strings in Emma's life since long before she even knew there were strings to pull, and even now it seemed like she couldn't shake loose, gone to clean up another mess that he started, even if it didn't really have anything to do with her.

Except, could it? Could this asset have been someone in place from that long ago, gone quiet to lure here there? Or was the reason that they went quiet simply because Gold recently retired?

And if this asset only ever talked to Gold, how would they ever expect them to talk to her?

It was a couple of days later (with no new information from Langley, much to their dismay) that Emma spent the day in the government buildings, making contacts and discussing her role with the oil companies, and how she could go about strengthening the relationships between the two groups (should the mission require her to stay, even if Emma still wondered if it was safe for her there). The meetings went well, and it was with a smile and a hum that she practically skipped down the main staircase, finally, _finally,_ feeling again like she was doing something well.

Of course, it was with pleasant feeling that she was less aware of what was going on around her, and when turning the corner she managed to bump directly into another person, spilling whatever hot beverage they had in their hands all over the both of their shirts.

"Ah — hot hot hot hot hot," Emma managed to yell out while pulling her wet shirt away from her body and trying to clean up before even checking on the other person, and when she did she stopped in her tracks. The solid body that she had run into was petite, strong, and _gorgeous_ – and was very, _very,_ familiar. It was also attached to a face that giving her a ferocious glare.

" _Watch where you're going,"_ the woman growled at her, her amazing lips practically snarling at the words, and Emma couldn't find the words to reply. Not when the woman was pulling her wet blouse away from her skin, and especially not when Emma was trying to figure out if she was just imagining things, projecting again, or if it really was the woman —

"I – uh…" she stammered. She needed to know for sure and her brain wasn't working yet, not able to get past that this ghost from the past might have appeared right in front of her but she didn't know for sure... but then Emma's eyes were drawn to the small scar on her upper lip and all doubt was gone.

The woman scoffed, "Of course you don't speak Spanish," and that seemed to push Emma's brain back into the present.

" _No, I do, I just –_ I'm sorry I bumped into you. Is there a washroom around here? I can help you get cleaned up and then maybe replace your coffee?"

The other woman seemed to examine Emma from her feet all the way to her face, and Emma studied her in the same way. Did she recognize Emma back? Was there any indication that the few small interactions that had made such an impact on Emma had made the faintest imprint on her? But if there was, Emma couldn't see it at all.

However, even if there wasn't indication of recognition, the other woman certainly was examining Emma as if she could suss out her secrets and make her do her bidding from just a look — one that Emma was certain _could_ make her weak in the knees and follow any command.

Emma could feel herself blush under the scrutiny and as the warmth started to spread, she shifted nervously from foot to foot. She chanced a glance back at the woman and found her eyes narrowed her eyes at Emma as if trying to make a decision, and then stepped around her and continued up the stairs. Unsure if Emma was supposed to follow, she turned around and did anyway, because at least she would probably point her in the direction of where to wash her hands and neck from the spilled drink, and she was reluctant to leave the side of this woman that has meant so much to her, even if she didn't ever even know her name.

She followed her to an office with "Regina Mills" displayed outside, and Emma couldn't take the silence anymore. _"So, is this you?"_ she asked, hoping her use of Spanish would put her on a better footing with the other woman, but she still ignored. She wasn't being yelled at either, so she took it for a win. _"Can I get you anything to help?"_

She got another glare, but then the woman sighed and handed her a box of tissues. "Yes, this is my office, and you're intruding."

Regina found some wet wipes for herself and started cleaning herself up, and Emma found herself staring as she pulled the shirt away and Emma got a glimpse of the dark lacy bra and skin underneath. Realizing that she was starting to stare for too long, she cast her eyes to the desk and found a display of business cards. "Office of Trade Relations," she read off of one of the cards, where the title was written in both English and Spanish. "North American Division. I'll probably be booking a meeting with you at some point soon if I get permanently assigned here. My meetings today were all with Energy and Mines."

Emma fumbled with a couple tissues and almost dropped the box, and then looked back up to Regina to check if she had seen her clumsiness, only to find Regina examining her as if she wasn't sure what to make of her. "I can give you my card," Emma said, and then rummaged in her shoulder bag for what she could only hope had been missed by the coffee – which it gratefully was.

Regina barely took her eyes from Emma's face when she hesitated and then snatched the card from her hand. "Emma.... Swan," she read with a raised eyebrow, and her voice told Emma she was less than impressed. "Well, Miss ** _Swan_** , what do you hope to find here?"

"I—" she started, but then was assaulted by the memory of another small woman saying the same words to her, but now Emma wasn't so sure if she was just imagining it. The voice was slightly different but if it was lowered it could be the same person, and the cold tone and inflection were the same. She could almost feel the woman's strong back and smooth skin under her hands again, and Emma's fingers twitched as if to reach out to her again. "I'm here to help relations between the global oil companies and the local government," she recited again, this time not taking her eyes away from Regina's, waiting for any sort of recognition or clue or —

But instead she got examined again from head to toe and back again in a long and lingering look, the type that Emma had only been on the receiving end of when it was in a distinctly sexual situation. Emma had never felt more like prey. "Are you planning on staying a while?" Regina finally asked, only when the silence was nearing becoming uncomfortable, and the tone in her voice was now even, perhaps even pleasant.

"I – uh," she felt herself flush under the woman's severe gaze. "I don't know yet. I suppose I'll go where I'm needed."

A stony smile slipped over Regina's face that was almost scary in its intensity, daunting in its fakeness. "The bees colonized near the _Araguaney_ tree provides the sweetest honey," she said as she reached into a cabinet beside the desk and pulling out a small jar and handing it to Emma. "Enjoy it on your flight home."

Emma stared at the small jar in her hand before stepping to the same side of the desk, coming impossibly closer to the other woman, Emma not caring that her wet shirt was now sticking to her chest, not hiding a thing. "I think I might stay a while."

Regina's gaze flickered down to her chest almost imperceptibly, but Emma saw it and couldn't contain a small curl of her lips; yet, Regina recovered faster than she did. "Then be careful in hallways, Miss Swan. I would hate to see what would happen if you ran into someone else."

"Is that a threat?" she asked before her brain caught up, before she realized that it could also be seen as a warning, but if Regina was the same woman from the party (which Emma was becoming more and more convinced of), it was just as hard to discern as the last two messages.

"It's time for you to go," and this time her words were slow and definitive and Emma was sure she was hiding something.

Emma took a deep breath in and a step back and Regina's eyes flickered down again, though this time it was to somewhere near her midsection, and her gaze held something different. Sadness? Guilt? Whatever it was, it was covered up quickly, and so Emma responded with the same tone. "Or what?"

"Do not underestimate me, Miss Swan. You have no idea what I'm capable of." With that she turned around sat down in her chair and turned her focus to her computer, Emma effectively dismissed, and she turned around and walked out of the office, leaving the honey behind her.

She wasn't one hundred percent sure that Regina was the woman from the masquerade, but she did know one thing: Regina smelled like apples.


End file.
